by Freda, Paula
Some teen-agers were waving sparklers. Above them, a thousand stars and a full moon had pinned themselves to a dark blue sky. The water of the lake reflected the heavenly bodies and shimmered as though silvery powder had been sprinkled over its rippling surface. A warm summer breeze toyed with the pines’ needles and fir and the lake water. Surrounded by such beauty, Leatrice calmed.
“Have you pulled in your claws?” Seth asked, holding her firmly in his arms. He did not want a childish scene to spoil the end of a perfect day. Leatrice had done a wonderful job of the cookout. Like daughter, like mother, he thought, as Beth Meredith had rolled up her sleeves and joined the other women in cooking and cleaning up afterwards. Her sophistication tempered with her willingness to work alongside the others had made her stand out. Dignity, that was the word that sprang to mind. Mother and daughter made him ponder the real meaning of the word. Tom Meredith also had permanently earned his respect. He’d participated in the fishing, the chopping of wood for the cooking fires. He had joined the men in standing guard over the camp to ward off any intruding wildlife. He’d drunk his beer but known when to stop, unlike three of the men who were now blissfully asleep under an evergreen. Seth wanted nothing to spoil all the good feelings he’d experienced today, the good feelings Leatrice had powered in him. She was a special kind of woman. She smelled of grass and spices. The night was young and the cover of spruce and pine tempting.
For Leatrice it was balm to the wounds inflicted by the green monster when Seth kissed her. She had worked very hard all week and Seth appeared satisfied with her efforts and with her family, meeting them with a receptive mind. For that she was grateful. One more memory to file under ecstasy, she sighed quietly, the beat of her heart quickening, as he lured her down gently to the grass.
A branch moved, but neither of the two lovers wrapped in each other’s arms noticed. Beth Meredith silently retreated, a smile on her lips. The moonlight trickled through pine and fir and dabbed the embracing couple in splashes of silver and emerald. Leatrice’s list of memories grew.
The campout was the talk of the town for weeks to come. “Some gal!” the men murmured happily as they moved the cattle up to the summer pastures where the air was cooler and free of pesky flies and the grass lush and thick. “Wealth, beauty and breeding and a heart to go along with them,” Tanner was quoted as saying. “Good woman,” Binney tacked on.
But if Leatrice expected Seth to declare his love and propose to her, or at least ask her to stay on after the year was up, after the kisses they’d shared, she was doomed once again to disillusion-ment. In the morning when they returned to the ranch and her parents left for New York, Seth was again distant, as if those moments by the lake had been nothing more than a dream. He stoically went about his chores running the two ranches. Leatrice resumed her duties as house-keeper and at night in her room she buried her face in her pillow and wept.
The summer months flew, too quickly.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The summer months flew, too quickly. Leatrice watched them fade into Fall — August and September with its rodeos and competitions, fairs, and joint harvesting between neighbors; September with its colder nights and a sense of preparation, getting everything ship-shape for the winter. Seth and his men began cutting and storing wood for heating during the winter, and started on repairs to fences and machinery. In late September and October the calves were brought down from the mountains and into the hayfields. The cattle were moved to the winter pastures on lower ground. The business of buying and selling was attended to; cows worked on — pregnancy tests; the drys and cripples sold; a sort of wrapping up of the ranch activities of the past ten months.
The closer November came, the more Leatrice blinded her thoughts to the day of reckoning, and the deeper she buried the bottle of gall that would be hers to drink. But time is a merciless erodent.
She woke on the anniversary of her arrangement with Seth to find herself alone in the house.
At first she thought she’d overslept and Seth was out milking Bessie. She dressed hurriedly in her shirt and denims and sneakers and went into the kitchen. The bucket filled with Bessie’s milk sat on the counter. Her next thought was that perhaps Seth had gone out to do some early morning errand. She made breakfast and kept it warm for the moment he should walk through the back door, shrug out of his coat and Stetson and hang them up on the clothes hook nearby.
As the hours passed and still he did not come, Leatrice began to wonder and grow apprehensive. It was almost noon when she remembered to look at the calendar on the wall for a notation or reminder that would tell her why Seth had left so early and where he might have gone. Today’s date was boldly circled in red. It was then that she knew. She recalled the evening before. Seth had been rather quiet during supper. Later he invited her to sit with him before the fireplace in the parlor. When he placed his arm about her shoulders, she nestled comfortably by his side, not asking, nor wanting to know, why he’d withdrawn from her the morning following the cookout. In an arrangement as unorthodox as theirs, to plague him with questions about his feelings for her might push him away. It was enough to know that he still found her desirable and if she tried hard and waited long enough, his logic occasionally gave way to his emotions. When he nuzzled her ear and kissed the side of her neck sending pleasant little shivers up and down her spine, then suddenly took her into his arms, she thought her heart would burst with happiness. For certain he’d finally accepted the truth. Unexpectedly he released her, stood up and for a long moment contemplated her upturned face, her expression willing, waiting, and hoping.
“I’ve had a pretty rough day, Lee, and tomorrow I expect the same. If you don’t mind, I’ll retire early.”
He waited for her answer. With all her being she wished he’d stay, but coming home exhausted was the norm for him rather than the exception. The fact that he was asking her made her feel that she was important to him. His moods were not easy for her to fathom, but his comfort was important to her. “Of course, Seth. Is there anything I can get for you? A warm glass of milk or hot chocolate?”
He smiled, that special warm easy smile that always left her breathless. “Thank you, no. Supper was great. But I really am exhausted. Good night Leatrice.” He started for his bedroom, then turned and gazed at her. She had the feeling he was imprinting on his mind her every line and curve, her mouth, her nose, and her eyes. “You know, Leatrice, you really are a helluva of woman.” He touched his forehead, saluting her, then turned and entered his bedroom and shut the door.
As she did late every night before retiring herself, she opened his bedroom door ever so quietly to check that he was comfortable and asleep. It was a caring practice she’d picked up from her mother. He lay quietly on his side, his back to the door, the steady rhythmic rise and fall of his shoulders indicating he was fast asleep. Ever so quietly she closed the door.
Staring at that date circled in red, now she understood his actions and his words last night. He’d fought one last battle with his emotions, and she had lost. “We have to talk,” she murmured to herself and promptly went out to look for Seth. There was no sign of him near the house. She walked to the bunkhouse and went into the kitchen. Linda was bent over a pot on the wood-burning stove, stirring something that smelled of carrots and beef. She was dressed in shirt and denims under a pretty blue and white-checkered apron, and she had on leather boots. A blue silk ribbon held back the soft brown strands of her hair from the muted suntan of her country girl face.
Sensing a presence in the doorway, Linda turned and as both women stared at each other, the room filled with an audible, tangible tension. “Ma’am, I’ll go see to the bags.” It was Binney, sitting in a corner in the shadows.
He did not look at Leatrice as he walked past her. His bristly jaw was set tightly.
Bags, what bags? Leatrice turned to Linda. “Where’s Seth?” Brown eyes sprinkled generously with gold flecks, gleamed triumphantly. She opened a cupboard and pulled out a manila envelope. �
��Seth and I drove to the Bar LB yesterday. “Here,” she said handing the envelope to Leatrice. “Moneys and papers pertinent to you, and the airline ticket for the next flight out. Your clothes at the LB, Seth and I packed them and brought them down in the pickup.” Like arsenic-spiked frosting, she added, “Binney awaits your richness’ convenience.”
Leatrice felt the floor beneath her open and swallow her as the full import of Linda’s flat, cruel statements struck home. Seth had left the house early so that she could be gone and out of his life by the time he returned in the evening. The plot was played out, the play ended. It was time to bring down the curtain and exit. With an anguished cry, Leatrice turned and fled.
Inside the kitchen she had shared with Seth for the past year, she dropped into a chair. Sobs racked her as she buried her face in her hands. The table, set with the breakfast dishes and a basket filled with slices of bread she had kneaded and baked the day before, caught the tears that streamed through her fingers. These past few months neither Seth nor she had mentioned their arrangement. Once again she’d fooled herself into believing that Seth had forgotten about it. That he had slowly grown fond of her, become accustomed to her, wanted her now to remain with him. That all her scheming and plotting had been quietly swept under the rug and consigned to the tug of war and foreplay between lovers. That she would go on living with Seth Driscoll for the rest of her life.
The truth, she pondered between sobs, was another matter. The year was up. Seth had fulfilled his part of the agreement. The Triple R and the Bar LB belonged to him. It was time for her to go. The cowgirl act was over.
Tears and self-recriminations were useless. When she returned to her parent’s home, men would again flock to her feet, falling over each other to gain her favor. She thought, half-laughing, half-choking, the best part would be no more housework, no more daring the milk separator, no more rounding up cattle, no more getting her stomach into gear. No tall sandy haired rancher, broad-shouldered and rustic to care for, to hold her in his arms, to live for.
She went into the bedroom and faced herself in the mirror over the bureau. Her features were drawn and pale and her eyes red and swollen from her bout of crying. Her fingers shook with sheer unhappiness as she loosed the red ribbon that held her hair in a ponytail. During the year her hair had lengthened until it reached past her shoulders in soft chestnut waves. Here and there, where the sun had bleached it, a gold strand glinted. A smile flitted across her lips. How often in the past had she bleached and frosted her hair artificially to achieve this same effect. She passed a roughened knuckle across her cheek. The once-matte complex-ion of her face had tightened and hardened and tanned. Her hands, once velvety to the touch and cream-colored, were roughened and dark. Her fingernails always kept attractively filed and enameled were cut short and chipped. Inside she had also changed. Her code of values, her understanding of life, its harshness, its beauty, its reality, she had a deeper understanding of what they were. On Seth’s ranch there had been no servants, no cosmetics, no air fresheners, no luxuries, and no mists or veils to falsely enhance or hide the simple refreshing beauty and earthy crudity of life and death at its most natural.
In time her exterior would revert to the old Leatrice — smooth, polished, rich and sought after. She would be again, Leatrice Meredith, sophisticate, matte-skinned. But inside, she would remain forever Driscoll’s lady, as Binney had taken to calling her since she had fainted at the branding session earlier that year.
Desperately unhappy, Leatrice turned away from the mirror. The unmade bed beckoned and she straightened the bedding as neatly as she could. She went into Seth’s room and set about making his bed. The dry, leathery odor of his body lingered in the severe muslin. She pressed the edge of the sheet to her lips. Her eyes brimmed anew with tears. Never to know fully the passionate embrace of his arms, the caress of his hands, the firm touch of his mouth. Never to experience the exquisite heights of sensuality he was capable of letting her reach. She let the muslin slide from her hands as she knew she must let all hope of Seth loving her slide from her heart. She steeled herself against the inevitable and finished making the bed.
Inside the parlor the hearth gaped cold and empty, like her future. She did not pack any clothes. Leatrice Meredith’s belongings waited in the back of the pickup. She went into the kitchen. Somehow she could not bring herself to clear the table of the unused breakfast dishes; there would be no dirty dishes to wash. A pencil lolling in a corner of the counter prompted her to write Seth a goodbye note. Briefly and truthfully, without shame or compunction, she wrote:
Seth,
My heart is tearing in two because I don’t want to go. The hardships, the lack of luxuries, these no longer faze me as long as I can be close to you. You want me to leave; therefore I’ll leave. But I’ll never stop loving you or wanting you. For having known you I’ve become a stronger person, and no one and nothing can take from me the moments we’ve shared. If you should ever need me, my dearest darling, remember Driscoll’s Lady and just call.
― Lee
She placed the letter inside Seth’s empty cereal bowl on the table. She said goodbye to the kitchen, to the cabinets with their multicoats of scarred enamel, to the dark raw patches on the worn linoleum, to the antiquated utilities and the milk separator, to the table and the chairs.
Tears streamed down her face uncontrolled as she left the house. Inside the pickup, Binney kept glancing at her. “Damn fool,” he uttered under his breath more than once as he drove toward the airport.
“Seth’s a damn fool!” he finally exploded, while carrying her luggage into the airport. “You’re the woman for him,” he growled. “You’re strong inside, like him. Give you a few years and you’d be as good as any of the ranchers’ wives hereabouts.” Leatrice smiled sadly. “I’d sure as hell try,” she said, and kissed Binney on his old, stubble-layered cheek.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
When Seth returned in the early afternoon, Linda rode out to meet him. “She’s gone,” she greeted him, a bit breathless. Not unexpectedly, the statement hurt and Seth swallowed hard. He noted the triumph on Linda’s face and how sharply her petite features shone in the pale November sunlight. He was silent as they rode their horses into the stable. Linda, wise enough not to interfere with his thoughts, rode quietly beside him. Once the horses were unsaddled and brushed down, her only parting remark was, “I’ll be over with supper as soon as it’s ready. She felt awkward to say more, but she was confident of drawing together the threads of their previous relationship, now that Leatrice was out of the picture.
Seth walked into his kitchen, removed his gloves, hat and coat and hung them up. A voice greeted him, melodious and rich, like a gold piece hitting a pane of glass. He turned, but no one was there. He had imagined the sound. It had been only an echo of his thoughts. The house was silent and empty.
In the airport lounge, Leatrice sat at a small table waiting for the announcement over the intercom that her plane was ready for boarding. She had ordered a drink but not touched it. The lump in her throat refused to dissolve, despite that the tears had dried. She felt cold and shivered.
Someone at the bar behind her laughed, a rich throaty laugh. Leatrice turned quickly, whisper-ing, “Seth?” A tall, stocky cowboy eyed her curiously before tipping his Stetson and smiling invitingly. Leatrice looked away.
Seth dropped into his seat at the table. He did not feel well. He’d developed a splitting headache. He rubbed his forehead and as he did so, he saw the envelope inside the empty cereal bowl. He picked it up and opened it and pulled out the note. When he had finished reading it, he put it down with a raspy chuckle. “Damn you, woman,” he whispered hoarsely.
On line at the tarmac, her luggage checked and loaded, Leatrice waited, ticket in hand, to climb the ramp and board the plane that would shuttle her to Billings, where she would catch a connecting flight to the East Coast. The line began to move. Both the attendant at the top of the ramp and the group on line preparing to board suddenl
y stopped to stare, eyes widening and ears hearkening with alarm at the distant sound growing louder by the second of a horse’s whinny and the clatter of galloping hoofs. Thundering across the tarmac toward the plane a horse and rider materialized. The passengers-to-be watched astonished as a cowboy wearing a lambskin shearling coat and heavy denims and boots, and a battered Stetson perched lazily on his sandy-haired head, reared his bay stallion to a halt in front of Leatrice.
Leatrice trembled from the sheer power of the moment. What could Seth want? Ah, perhaps legal documents would need signing before the transfer of the two properties was complete. Why else would he come tearing across the airfield toward her? She watched his gloved hands pull back on the reins as the horse snorted and moved its legs nervously. Raising her gaze to Seth’s tanned, rugged features that always appeared hewn from the rock of the land, she was surprised to find a fierce tenderness in his eyes that she had never seen there before. His voice held a raspy gentleness as, extending a gloved hand to her from atop his stallion, all he said was, “Lee — Leatrice?” And when she re-mained speechless and immobile, afraid to believe, “Well, come on my lady,” he added, his mouth breaking into a broad smile, a beautiful smile that lit his face and burned warm in his eyes, grey-green like the sage-brush that swayed in the wind under the sun and the occasional burst of clouds in the Montana sky. What she read further in those eyes as they crinkled at the corners under the influence of that smile, made her cry out, “Oh Seth, oh my darling, oh thank God!” She tore the ticket to shreds and threw the pieces up into the air. Grabbing hold of Seth’s proffered hand, she braced one foot on his boot in the stirrup and helped him swing her up and behind him.
